One Year
by Today.Is.Life
Summary: It's just a normal Wednesday morning. Right up until the moment it isn't. This is the story of Gabriela Dawson one year on from Leslie Shay's death. Contains some curse words.


**Hey guys!**

 **Wow. Trust me when I say that this one was a biggie to write. And it was pretty hard too.**

 **This is an oneshot called 'One Year' and as you can probably guess, it's a story of the one year anniversary of Shay's death.**

 **I hope you guys really enjoy this story – it's over 7,500 words long!**

 **Please maybe leave a review telling me what you think about this; I'd love to hear from you!**

 **And as always, thank you all for your support of my stories.**

 **Love Hannah**

 **oxoxox**

* * *

It's just a normal Wednesday morning.

Right up until the moment it isn't.

Gabriela Dawson pulls up at 51, singing along to the catchy song on the radio. It's sunny; she slips her sunglasses onto the top of her head now she's parked. She pulls the keys out the ignition, twirls them on her index finger as she reaches over and grabs her bag from the passenger seat.

Brett took her own car today – she has an appointment after shift.

Dawson climbs out of her car, an earphone in one ear and the other dangling against her chest. She hums to the beat playing in her ear as she locks her car and throws her bag over her shoulder haphazardly, again twirling the keys on her finger.

She feels the heat of the sun on her back as she walks up 51's drive. It seems as if everyone else is already there when Dawson spots Casey, Severide, Herrmann and Chief standing at the top of the drive, already suited up.

She's still humming. She feels the bud of the earphone bounce off her chest repeatedly. It's just a normal day.

That's until she actually _sees_ their faces. Casey, Severide, Herrmann and Chief – wearing expressions depicting solemn, sadness, grief and pain. They were watching her from the moment she pulled up and noted the unexpected ease in her behaviour – she forgot.

She sees their faces and she knows.

Dawson remembers.

The sudden realisation knocks the breath out of her, the lungs inside her chest suddenly freeze and constrict, hindering her breathing. She was suffocating – Dawson felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

She stops abruptly in her tracks; unable to move despite how much she's internally screaming at her feet to continue forward.

She can't move.

 _It's May 13th._

 _One year._

 _Shay._

Dawson didn't think that it'd hurt like this – the pain still as raw and as real and as heart-breaking as it was on this day just one short year ago. The day they lost Shay.

She still can't catch her breath. _They're watching. They watch as the emotional truck hits her – they see as she remembers; the panic and grief and loss and sadness and pain etched into her face._

Why didn't she remember?

She feels eyes on her, scrutinising her face, her eyes, expression. They knew from the moment she stepped out of the car that Dawson had forgotten – or her mind had simply blocked out the baggage that came with May 13th. The haphazard comfortable ease was all they needed to see to confirm what they suspected. They'd been waiting for her arrive, to gage her reaction, to see where her head was at. They had been talking about her, wondering how she would deal with today.

Severide had Casey to lean on. Casey was there that day. Whilst Brett was an amazing friend, she wasn't there. Dawson hadn't anyone close enough to her right now to really talk to. They were worried – even more so now.

Dawson looks up and sees the sympathy and the worry in their eyes through her glassy ones.

She pulls out her phone and presses the button, lighting up the screen. She just needs to check.

Dawson only confirms what she already knows.

 _May 13th 2015._

One year without Shay.

She feels a sharp pain her chest, and half is because she can't quite catch her breath and the other half is due to how she lost Shay and how they lost Shay and how it's been a year and how she didn't remember.

Dawson's crying long before she feels the warm tears slip off her jaw and onto her shirt.

She turns away from them because they can't see her cry and she doesn't want them to see her cry and she forgot. She's taking steps that lead nowhere; left then right and then left again just to try to calm herself down. Dawson's wiping her face roughly but it's useless because more tears follow and now she's sobbing and she can't stop and she forgot the first anniversary of her best friend's death and it hurts.

Strong, warm familiar arms enclose her body before she can really process the feeling. _Matt._

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay Gabby…" His voice is gentle, a mere whisper because he knows just how fragile his girl is right now.

"I forgot…" is all she can say to explain as she clutches his shirt with every ounce of energy to ensure he's real and this is real and that it's really been a year without Shay.

Casey had watched as the wave hit her, just like she had described all those months ago when things were so different, so much better than they are now. "I know," he soothes. He does. He knows her better than he knows himself.

With a deep breath she pushes herself off Matt's chest, feels how he still holds her arms as she catches her balance and then afterwards. Her eyes are red by the time she's finished rubbing them.

Casey sighs as he watches her build up her defences again, "Gabby if you need to take this one out-"

Dawson's quick to shake her head in protest, "No, it's okay. I need to be here."

He swallows slowly, feeling uneasy about agreeing to this but knowing that it's better for her to be at 51, where they can keep an eye on her, "Okay, today's gonna be a rough one for all of us. If you wanna talk you know where I am."

She nods, "Thanks Matt," before rushing into the firehouse passing Chief, Severide and Herrmann with nothing more than a smile and nothing less than a sniffle.

When Casey makes his way back to the trio Chief's rubbing his chin, looking concerned, "Keep an eye on her today. There's no way of knowing how she'll deal with it."

Hermann nods his head in understanding, "You got it Chief."

* * *

Dawson makes lunch in a complete world of her own. There's no radio noise or earphones to hinder her hearing, but she simply doesn't process the talking around her.

Chop veg. Boil pasta. Cook chicken.

She hopes the simple mundane tasks will help take her mind off Shay and the explosion and the beam and death but it doesn't.

 _"Come on, Shay. Come on. One, two, three, four. Blow to the head. Compressions. Switch on three with me. Ready? One two three."_

She remembers her words like she'd just said them; like they'd just slipped out of her mouth. She remembers Severide yelling "No!" and "Shay!" and "Come on!" over and over. She remembers the feel of Shay's warm blood on her gloved fingers – the gloopy feel only confirming what she had dreaded. She remembers them pulling Shay from her hands and Severide calling after her and herself sobbing and Severide crying.

Dawson remembers the moment she watched as they lowered Shay's coffin into the ground, feeling as if a part of her was being buried too. Because it was.

She's been trying to ignore the looks and mutterings and concerned glances all morning, but the effort is fruitless. Whether it's Casey or Chief or Brett or Otis or even fucking _Connie_ for heaven's sake, someone is watching her, making sure she's not about to collapse into a puddle of her own sadness or whatever.

Dawson's happy when they get a call. They're out for an hour and forty-five. 105 minutes of distraction time.

That is until they get back to 51 and for some reason Dawson finds herself staring at Shay's photo on the wall. _Leslie Elizabeth Shay. Line of Duty Death. May 13th2014._

Apart from that little four, nothing else changes, it's just a small, insignificant number that has a massive significance to their lives. One year without Shay. 2015… forever without Shay.

"One year huh."

Dawson doesn't really relate the voice to the person until she turns her head to see Severide standing next to her, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

"It doesn't seem like a year," Severide continues when he realises that she's just gonna keep staring at him with that look. He doesn't fail to notice how she clutches Shay's necklace in her palm.

"It feels longer," Dawson murmurs the only thing that she understands she feels right now, because it was the truth. Every day without Shay felt like a year in itself. Even when Shay was alive, a day was like a week in Shay's world. Dawson only ever had to go a day without talking to Shay to miss three arguments with Severide over yogurt, one breakup, a hookup and a very funny drunken tale.

So 365 days without her seemed like a lifetime because it was.

"I didn't think it'd be this hard," she continues, finding herself talking to Severide because he understands and because really, she had no one else to talk to, "I thought I'd done my grieving."

Severide nods because he truly understands what she's saying because he feels it himself, "Problem with grief is that it never really goes away."

Angrily Dawson mutters, "I want it to. I hate that every time I think of Shay I see that damn beam hitting her."

Dawson doesn't miss the flash of horror on Severide's face, she hadn't meant to hurt him, but she'd just said the truth, "Eventually that'll change," he says once he's recovered from the shock of her previous words.

"Will it?" She questions bitterly, her anger not directed at him at all which Severide knew, "Nothing seems to change lately. Everything's the same."

Severide's not quite sure if they're just talking about Shay anymore.

Sensing that Dawson wants to move on from this topic right now, Severide lightens the atmosphere with his next words, "The guys wanna head to Molly's later, have a bottle – or a few – of tequila for Shay."

Despite herself Dawson smirks, finally meeting Severide's eyes, "Shay would love that."

Severide raises his brow, "So you in?"

She nods, "Tequila sounds great right now."

Somehow, the way Dawson says it doesn't sit well with Severide.

* * *

Dawson's words bother Severide so much he finds himself catching Casey's gaze in the breakroom and nodding him outside. Curious, Casey follows.

"What's up?" Casey asks casually, but the look in his eye says anything but.

Severide lets out a deep breath wondering where to start or what to say. He looks down 51's drive, watches as a couple cars drive past.

"How are you doing Severide? This… it's a hard day for everyone," Casey continues when Severide doesn't say anything.

Casey props himself up against the wall, hands crossed over his chest, one foot pressed up against the brickwork. He was trying not to think of this day one year ago to stay strong for everyone else, but it was hard to do. Shay left their lives a year ago to the day. Shay died. Casey always had a soft spot for Shay, everyone at 51 always did, combine her with Dawson who everyone also had a soft spot for, and you created the ultimate duo who got away with anything.

Casey doesn't pretend to not miss them two together at 51, always joking or teasing someone or each other, always having little spats that would end in them laughing at each other. And Casey certainly didn't pretend to not miss Shay; they both mixed well together because they had common interests and were similar in many ways. Casey had to admit too, he always missed Shay's teasing innuendos.

Severide waves Casey's words off, "Honestly man I'm doing okay. Think I got the whole grief and anger thing out of my system a couple months ago. I'm remembering more of the good stuff than the bad stuff; I woke up this morning thinking about the time where she stuck that naked picture of Darden all over the firehouse."

Casey finds himself laughing along with Severide, "Connie was more upset with that than Darden was. Her face when she told Shay off."

"And Chief let her get away with it. Her and Dawson could've gotten away with murder," Severide chuckles as he rubs his chin, "God everything was so different back then."

Casey nods, "And easier," he mutters as he rubs his eyes, Severide picking up the hidden meaning in his words, but he knows not to push him right now.

"So what did you actually want to talk about?" Casey says, getting back to the reason why Severide brought him outside.

The Squad Lieutenant exhales almost shakily; he didn't know how to put it into words that Dawson was struggling without completely freaking out Casey. Severide knew there was still a whole lot of love there, but he also knew that Dawson wouldn't benefit from Casey hounding her because of worry today. If anything, Dawson needed her space to go to Casey on her terms. _But things are so damn complicated between them,_ Severide mutters inwardly to himself.

Eventually Severide says, "It's Dawson – I don't think she's dealing well. Honestly Casey," Severide can't help but sigh when he says the word, "I don't think she's done grieving; there's a lot more going on here than we think."

The feeling that washes over Casey does anything but put him at ease, but he can't help but agree with Severide. What Casey saw in Dawson's eyes this morning really unnerved him.

"You talk to her at all?" Casey asks finding himself apprehensive of Severide's answer.

Severide nods, rubs his forehead, "Yeah, just found her looking at Shay's picture. I can't tell whether she's pissed off or upset. She said something about it being hard and still grieving, and that she can only think of that day when she thinks of Shay."

Casey's stomach flipped, "…She never really dealt with the survivor guilt; do you think that could be a part of this?"

"Definitely, but it's also about losing Shay. I got the feeling that she hasn't really let go of the grief."

When Severide sees the concerned look on Casey's face but receives no answer, he says, "Look man, I don't know what to do. Whether we just leave her and hope she comes to us, or talks to anyone. You know her better than anyone; Dawson does everything on her own terms."

Casey huffs, "Don't I know it… You talked to Chief?"

Severide shakes his head, "Nah, knew it was best to talk to you first. Think Chief will know what to do?"

Casey shrugs, "Maybe he'll talk to the Chaplain, I don't know."

Casey doesn't move to go inside because Severide seems to have something else playing on his mind, "Is that all Dawson said?" he asks.

"I told her that we were all going to Molly's later, drinks for Shay… I don't know, when she agreed it didn't sit well with me."

Confused, Casey's brows burrow when he questions Severide, "What do you mean?"

"She reminded me of _me_ a couple of months ago Casey," Severide explains with a worried look in his eye and instantly Casey was reminded of his friend's erratic and drunken behaviour just a few months ago.

Severide struggles to keep up with Casey as he heads to Chief's office.

* * *

"What do you suggest I do?"

Chief sighed deeply. He'd listened as his Lieutenants had explained the situation, of how Dawson wasn't coping and just _something_ wasn't right with her, even if it was the anniversary of her best friends' death. He was at a loss just as much as his Lieutenants were; sure, he'd dealt with many grieving members of his firehouse before, but the look in Dawson's eyes this morning was different. It was more. It was self-destructing.

Chief would have been prepared to dismiss the worries if it was Casey who had come to him alone, because the old-timer would have put it down to Casey worrying about his girl and not his Candidate. As much as they were professional at work, Chief couldn't ignore the love that he knew was still between them. He'd seen the muted glances, the tiny smiles, the gestures, their movement in sync… heck who hadn't seen them.

But it was because Severide also came to him that made him realise how bad Dawson was. Severide was known for jumping in at the last minute when whoever was already half way to self-destructing, believing that if he left people to their business they'd leave him to his too. But his Squad Lieutenant had slowly changed throughout the past few years and Chief got the feeling that Severide was tired of not being there like he felt he should. Perhaps, Chief pondered to himself, he was taking a leaf out of Shay's book when it came to caring for Dawson – jump in quickly before her crusade truly began.

"I don't know Chief. I can't gage where her head's at. We're just worried," Casey muttered and in turn this worried Chief further; if Casey couldn't gage where her head was at, good luck to anyone else who tried.

"Yeah Chief; we get that today's gonna be hard on her, but not like this. Something's going on in her head," Severide added as he sat himself in a chair, Casey too jittery to sit.

"She needs to talk to someone Chief. She bottles stuff up until it explodes, and it's just not healthy," Casey says and as if Chief needed further assurance, the look of concern and somewhat fear on his Truck Lieutenant's face was more than enough.

"Okay," Chief rasps, "I'll give Chaplain Orlovsky a call; get him to come talk to Dawson again," he concludes, figuring that it was the only way forward from here. The Chaplain had gotten through to her before; hopefully he could do it again.

"Thanks Chief, we appreciate it," Severide nods thinking that Chief's words concluded the meeting, until Casey asks, "Wait, what do you mean _again_?"

Chief realises he should have chosen his words more carefully, knowing how perceptive his Truck Lieutenant was and with a reluctant sigh he answers, "…In the weeks after Shay's passing Dawson went to talk to the Chaplain. He helped her through whatever she was feeling at that time."

Looking wounded Casey almost stammers, "She always told me she was meeting Antonio."

Severide, unable to miss the hurt in his best friend's voice assures Casey with words he knew are the utmost truth, "Sounds like she didn't want to worry you more than you already were."

Casey swallows deeply, "Thanks Chief," before exiting the room.

Severide moves to follow before Chief stops him, "How are you doing Kelly?"

Surprising Chief his Squad Lieutenant offers an honest smile, "I woke up this morning remembering Shay plastering Darden's naked photo everywhere."

Chief smiles back as Kelly leaves; that's all he needed to hear.

* * *

Dawson's pottering around the kitchen trying to clean up the vast array of junk that is left on the worktops. She hopes it'll occupy her mind – it works for a few fleeting moments.

She can't wait to get off shift. She can already taste the tequila on her lips. God she wants to forget.

She swears if one more person looks at her with pity or sympathy or fucking _anything_ other than a casual glance she's gonna blow.

She wants to scream that she's fine, to leave her alone, but she knows that'll only affirm that she's not fine and she doesn't want to be alone.

Her phone buzzes for the twentieth time today. A text from Antonio – _I know today's gonna be tough. I'm thinking of you and I'm here for you sis. Give me a call later. Love you._

She wants to scream at her brother and cry on his shoulder at the same time. His words make her eyes tear; _goddammit Antonio,_ she mutters to herself.

"Hey look who's here! Chaplain it's good to see you!" Herrmann's chipper voice catches everyone's attention and people begin making their way over to greet the familiar face.

Dawson sighs to herself; she really doesn't want to talk about anything right now. She thinks about running away and hiding as the Chaplain talks to the guys, but she's knows he'll find her eventually. _Just get it over with,_ she thinks.

It's not that she doesn't like talking to the Chaplain, but what is she supposed to say when she doesn't know what to say at all? How is she supposed to put into words what she's thinking without knowing what she's thinking?

Before she's able to think some more the Chaplain pops into view and hugs her, "Gabriela, how are you doing?" It was a simple greeting, but she knew it was loaded with more meaning than usual.

"I'm good," she answers in the only way she knows how.

The Chaplain stares at her, "I've got a couple of boxes in the boot of my car; new CFD stuff for you guys to sell. Would you help me bring them up?"

Dawson nods, at least she wouldn't have to talk to him _in_ the firehouse so no one could overhear them, "Sure thing Chaplain."

They don't even get halfway down the drive before the Chaplain says, "This year passed by more quickly than I'd realised…"

Dawson stares.

"You know, there's no proper way to deal with anniversary's, but it'd be nice to talk about Leslie Shay don't you think?"

Again, she continues to stare, and the Chaplain is thrusted back to his office all those months ago as the young woman sat on his couch and stared blankly, _lost._

 _You know you've been coming to see me for five straight weeks, and for five straight weeks, you've sat on that couch and said nothing. Nobody's making you come here, which means that you want to be here. Every counselling theory I know says that I should wait for you to make the first move; that you'll tell me what you want to tell me when you're ready to tell me. But I also know first responders. And we're a different breed. We have to do things whether we're ready or not._

Somehow, the Chaplain thought, that technique wasn't going to work in this situation.

"I forgot the first anniversary of my best friend's death. What kind of person does that make me?" Dawson mutters bitterly, wiping her eyes because her tears have betrayed her.

"Human," the Chaplain answers softly.

Dawson scoffs, "Seems like everyone else remembered. I walked into work all happy-go-lucky as if she wasn't gone. I _ignored_ the fact that she's gone."

"Gabriela," he soothes gently when they reach his car, "Grief and hurt and pain… We block it out. Sometimes we pretend that it's not there to make it easier on ourselves. You're not any less of a friend for it… there's no right or wrong way to grieve. You just do it."

"I'm sick of grieving," she whispers so much so that the Chaplain has to strain his ears to hear her, "… I don't want to forget about her, god no, but I want to think of Shay without this grief hanging over every memory. I'm sick of hurting."

It's the most honest she's been with herself in a long while.

* * *

The Chaplain soon leaves after realising that he's not going to get much more out of Dawson than she's already given. He tells Wallace what he thinks, that she's ' _sort of lost and struggling with how to cope. She's sick of grief but she doesn't know how to move on. Keep an eye on her Wallace, she's gonna need it.'_

Dawson's somewhat relieved when the Chaplain leaves, there was no one left in the house now that was going to outwardly seek her out and make her talk. Everyone else teeters around the edges, unsure of how to approach her and right now, that's the way she wants it. At least, she thinks it is.

There's only three more hours left of shift and Dawson can't help but count them down. She needs to get out of here – she's suffocating. She needs alcohol. She needs to forget, just for tonight.

"Hey."

She figured he'd come soon enough, despite everything, he's always there for her.

"Hey," Dawson murmurs to him as she straddles the benches. Casey wonders why she isn't running away, instead of almost inviting him to sit with her. He sits on the edge of the bench opposite, facing her, and waits for a few moments in the hope that she's gonna say something.

Casey should have known that she was never going to cave first.

"The guys were just talking about Shay stuffing shaving cream into Otis' pillow. Do you remember his face when it got all over his bunk?" Casey reminisces, craving to hold her hand but instead securing his on his knees.

In spite of herself Dawson manages to crack a smile, "If looks could kill," she murmurs quietly.

"What's going on in your head Gabby?" He uses her first name and it's the first time in a long time and she didn't realise how much she missed it.

She sighs, she doesn't know.

"Okay," Casey murmurs upon seeing the conflicted look in her eyes, "But I'm here for you, whenever you need me I'm here to talk to."

"I know," Dawson answers, because that is one thing she truly knows.

* * *

God she'd underestimated tequila.

As the liquid slipped down her throat Dawson thought about how glad she was that it wasn't her turn to work Molly's tonight. As Otis and Herrmann stood behind the bar, she was glad that she could get as drunk as she wanted and leave whenever she wanted.

She sat a few stools down from Cruz, Brett and Mouch, close enough that she didn't have to follow their conversation but not far enough away to distance herself from them, so she wouldn't draw attention to herself.

Dawson had the night all planned out. Get blind drunk, go home and sleep. She was also counting on Brett not going home tonight, but Dawson knew that the chances of Brett going home with someone weren't great.

"Herrmann," Dawson calls, pointing to her glass to ask for another drink. Herrmann inwardly sighs to himself, _that girl is on a mission tonight._

As Herrmann places another glass of tequila in front of Dawson the rest of 51 arrive; Severide, Chief and Casey to be exact. They head towards Chilli, Capp and Tony who were sitting beside Cruz, Brett and Mouch.

Dawson spots the photo of her and Shay behind the bar. It's from the night of Herrmann's and Cindy's anniversary party (or Herrmann's vasectomy party) and Shay had swiped some frosting from her cake and wiped it on Dawson's nose.

Dawson closes her eyes and swallows the last of her fourth tequila of the night.

"Hey Dawson, c'mere!" Mouch calls, finally drawing her from her now hazy stupor.

It looks like they're about to make a toast. Dawson swallows and shuffles over to them, sitting beside Mouch on the stools. Since everyone else is toasting tequila for Shay, Herrmann begrudgingly hands Dawson her fifth.

Their eyes turn to the Chief who clears his throat before beginning, "This year has been one of the toughest we've faced together. We've lost family, we lost Shay… Shay was an amazing paramedic, but what made her special was that she was an outstanding friend. A dear friend that we miss and love every single day… To Shay."

"To Shay," they all toast in unison, before sipping on what was, of course, Shay's favourite drink.

"Damn," Cruz winced, "How the hell did she drink this stuff?"

They chuckle, heck even Severide laughs heartily, and Dawson, growing even more angry and even more upset, does the only thing she can think of in that moment – downing the rest of that drink.

The guys move to a booth and Dawson stays seated at the bar, beside Chilli and Brett who are talking about something but Dawson doesn't have the heart to care what right now.

Her phone buzzes – _Are you at Molly's? I'll be there in an hour or so, almost done with work._

Dawson rolls her eyes; she really can't deal with Antonio breathing down her neck right now. She knows he's concerned, but she can't deal with his worry on top of everything else today. She knows she sounds selfish, but what she'd really like is to wallow alone.

"Dawson? Dawson?" Brett says a few times after being unable to catch her friend's attention after the first.

Dawson peels her eyes away from her drink, "Yeah?" she mutters, becoming more and more intoxicated by the minute.

"We're gonna go sit with the guys," Brett explains, "You wanna join?"

The Latina forces a smile onto her face, but it feels as fakes as she knows it looks, "Yeah, give me a sec. I'll come over in a bit."

It's enough for Brett and Chilli, and so they leave head over to the guys, talking about some TV show they both liked or whatever. Dawson didn't care to listen for longer than a second.

Dawson starts planning her escape and where she'll go after she escapes. She knows she needs more tequila where ever she goes, but if she heads into the storeroom right now and tries to leave with it in her hands, she knows she'll never get past the front door.

She's surprised she can think that far ahead considering how drunk she's beginning to feel.

Molly's is pretty busy so Dawson figures that if she chooses her timing right, she can slip out of here without anyone noticing, or at least without anyone noticing for a moment or two anyway.

Dawson waits until Herrmann slips outback to get some more beer bottles and Otis is preoccupied with a large drink order from Mouch that she figures now is as good a time as any.

She walks down the street a while until she comes across an off licence. She buys a bottle of tequila before hailing down a cab. She slips inside.

"Where too kid?" The cabbie asks.

"5929 South State Street," Dawson answers, "It's a big old empty warehouse."

* * *

"Hey! Where did Dawson go?"

Casey hears Herrmann shout over to Otis about Dawson when he realises that she's no longer sitting at the bar and not sitting with the guys.

"I don't know," Otis shrugs before offering, "Ladies room?"

Chilli, upon hearing there conversation heads to the ladies room and a few moments later she comes out, "She's not in there."

By now this topic had captured everyone's attention and Casey can't ignore Severide's stare. The blonde Lieutenant turns to his friend as Severide says, "You wanna go look for her?"

"She's not answering her cell," Brett mutters after trying to call her roommate.

"Yeah," Casey answers, he just had a bad feeling about this.

As Casey and Severide slip out into the cool May evening the dark haired man asked, "You wanna call Antonio?"

"Nah," Casey murmurs as he hails down a cab, "I think I know where she's gone."

* * *

When Casey and Severide haul themselves out of the cab on State Street and stare up at the building that changed their lives a year ago today, Casey knew that Dawson was here. He could feel it.

Severide sighs, "Damn it Case, she's been… ah, I don't even know."

"Come on," Casey mutters knowing that they can't avoid this any longer, none of them can.

They find that the door's been wedged open – a fairly easy job because it wasn't bolted up that well in the first place.

They step inside and find the air deathly cold and silent. It's eerie. _It feels different from the last time I was here_ , Severide thinks remembering him and Dawson trying to prove arson.

Casey, normally level headed, focussed, unshakable, felt an odd sense of unease in a building he hadn't been inside for a year. Perhaps it was because he was scared of what he'd find with Dawson, or maybe it was because he was thrusted back into the memories of May 13th 2014.

Both Lieutenants had expected to find Dawson at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor, sitting where Shay had died, but she's not there. Casey's stomach flips.

They can hardly see a thing; a street light sends an orange glow through slits in the boarded up windows, but the moment Casey was about to say that they wished they had a flashlight Severide turns his phone torch on.

Casey sends him a look of gratitude, Severide smirks slightly.

Severide finds himself standing in the exact spot where Shay had lay. He gulps. God he missed her.

"Hey man," Casey says gently, "If this is too hard I can find-"

Severide shakes his head lightly, "Nah it's okay man. Let's go get her," he assures and starts up the stairs to the second floor.

Perhaps Severide was a little shaken to be here on the first year anniversary of losing Shay, but right now he just really wanted to find Dawson and make sure she hadn't done anything rash.

Casey follows his friend accepting that whatever they'll find it'll hurt.

They reach the second floor. The floor feels dusty under their feet, but most of the debris had long been cleared, leaving just a dirty open space.

Casey spots Dawson sitting against a wall, knees raised, her arms leaning on them holding a bottle of something. He taps Severide's arm to get his attention and he turns his head and spots Dawson too.

Severide notices that it's where Gish had set up the matches to act as a slow burning fuse. Where they had realised that Shay hadn't simply died, she'd been murdered.

They begin to slowly walk towards her as Dawson takes another long sip of what Severide thinks is tequila. The windows aren't boarded up here, so the street light illuminates the second floor enough for Severide not to need his phone torch anymore.

Dawson had heard them come in, had heard their quiet mumbling. _God,_ she thought, _just leave me be._

She spots their moving figures out of the corner of her eye, and she is somewhat thankful that it only seems to be Casey and Severide, yet she hates that it's them to see her like this too.

It didn't take much for them to realise just how drunk she was.

"God did you follow me here or something?" She mutters bitterly, "I'm fine, get over it."

"It was a lucky guess," Casey answers slowly, stepping closer towards her. He'd never seen his girl like this before.

Dawson rolls her eyes, "Yeah, well, you found me. So now you can leave," she slurs before taking another swig, no longer caring how it burns her throat.

"Not about to happen," Severide tells her.

Casey frowns when he notices that her knuckles on her right hand are split and bloody, "What did you do to your hand?"

Dawson glances down at her hand, switching the tequila bottle into her left, "Oh, I punched a wall…" she drawls uncaringly.

Casey's close enough that he can kneel down beside her to get a closer look of her bloodied knuckles, "Can I take a look?"

She nods and watches intently as he takes her hand in his to examine the damage. Casey sighs after realising that the cuts aren't overly serious and whilst still holding her hand in his, his blues look at her and ask, "What are you doing here Gabby?"

Dawson stares at him before scoffing, "What do you think I'm doing here Matt?" She answers sarcastically, swiping her hand from his grasp and tucking it into her chest.

"I think you're still grieving and have no idea how to cope with it," Casey answers her bluntly, figuring that she doesn't need him pussyfooting around her all night.

Dawson lulls her head to the side, stares at the dark spot where Gish had set up his deadly matches, "That's where he did it you know. This is where he sat."

"He was a monster and he killed Shay," Severide adds, stepping a little closer.

Dawson's eyes snap up at Severide and suddenly she's on her feet and walking over to the window. The bottle swings in her hand, the liquid sloshing inside the glass.

"You know," Dawson lulls almost dreamily, "when he held me in that elevator there was a moment where I wished that he'd kill me."

"I mean…" she carries on, "how was it fair that I got to live and Shay died, huh? Why did it have to be her?" Dawson drawls.

Casey and Severide look at each other and they both feel the same fear.

"Why the fuck wasn't it me?!" Dawson screams furiously and desperately, smashing the tequila bottle to the floor, the shards of glass sliding across the room.

And then she's screeching words that neither Severide or Casey can understand but Casey's rushing towards her shaky and flailing body as she rags her hand through her hair, tears marking her cheeks.

"Stop it, stop it Gabby!" Casey's yelling at her as he pushes her against the wall to gain some control, to try to calm her down.

When she starts fighting against him, her holds her hands in his and presses them against the wall.

"Why didn't he just drop the fucking lighter and get it over with?! Why didn't he shut up for just one moment and do what he wanted to do?! It should have been me, it should have always been me but we traded places! That beam was meant for me, not her!" Dawson screams at Casey, her eyes wild and desperate as they stared into his.

Casey doesn't say a word as she screams at him, not through her wails and her cries, until she quiets, unable to screech any longer. "Stop," he murmurs softly, so softly and so caringly and so lovingly that it breaks her.

Severide watches as Dawson sinks to the floor, Casey lowering with her, until she collapses into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

God, he couldn't tell you if he was petrified or astounded at what he'd just seen. Severide stares down at his hands as he calls for a cab, he didn't realise before but they were shaking. Dawson was so fucking broken and she was doing this alone _. Who could she have talked to, really?_ Severide thinks. Not him and Casey, not really. And not Brett, however sweet she was, she wasn't there when Shay died, she didn't really understand.

Severide watches as Casey comforts Dawson, who looked so small and broken in his arms. Severide just hoped that they'd get their act together soon.

This survivor guilt had really been eating away at her.

Casey sends Severide a knowing look before turning back to Dawson. In response Severide sends a text to Brett – _Found Dawson. She's gonna stay with us tonight. Explain tomorrow._

A few minutes later Severide hears the cab pull up outside, "Cab's here," he calls to neither one of them in particular.

Casey helps Dawson to her feet and upon seeing the look in his eyes she murmurs, "It's okay, I can walk."

They get her into the cab and Severide tells the cabbie their address. He glances into the mirror, seeing Casey hold a slightly shaky and very drunk Dawson to his chest.

The ten minute drive home isn't long enough for them to get their thoughts together. When they step out of the cab and Dawson realises where they are, she hasn't the strength to protest. She lets Casey guide her inside as Severide rushes on to open up the door and put the lights on.

Dawson steps inside the apartment that was both familiar and foreign to her all at once. Casey sets her down on the sofa and Severide sits beside her as Casey goes in search of the first aid kit.

"You know Dawson," Severide says gently, "You're not alone."

Dawson can only nod, not trusting her voice or her words.

Casey soon returns with the first aid kit and some warm water. He sets them down beside the coffee table, planting himself on top of it in front of Dawson. Slowly he takes her bloody hand in his and places it in the warm water. Dawson hisses lightly before quieting as she watches Casey gently wash the blood from her knuckles.

He then places her hand in a fluffy cream towel that Dawson recognised and patted her hand dry. Taking the antiseptic from the kit Casey looks up at her, "This is probably gonna sting like a bitch."

She nods, forcing a somewhat reassuring smile on her face to encourage him. Sighing Casey wipes her knuckles with the antiseptic watching as she winces a little. He then wraps her knuckles in a soft white bandage and secures it with tape.

"Who knew you were quite the first-aider," Dawson murmurs quietly, unable to stop herself. She feels warmed when Casey smiles.

"It's nothing you haven't taught me," he answers before leaving to put his supplies away.

"You wanna talk Dawson?" Severide asks as he throws his arm on the back of the sofa, watching as the fiery Latina settles into the material.

She swallows thickly, "It still hurts," she whispers so quietly Severide couldn't be sure if she'd actually said it or that he was imagining it.

"It's still so real," she adds a little more loudly this time so Severide didn't feel like he was hearing voices.

"I know Dawson, I know," Severide answers, because it's the truth. He knows.

"God Kelly I just really don't know what to do," Dawson whimpers as she buries her face in her hands, the tears thick and fast this time and not blinded by anger.

"And that's okay Dawson," he answers as he shuffles over and puts an arm around her, "It's okay because we're here for you."

"Always?" She whispers vulnerably against his chest and god he's never heard that word uttered in that way and she sounds so lost and exposed and she needs them.

"Always," Severide answers.

Then Casey appears in front of them and he taps Dawson's hand to get her attention, "You wanna go get some sleep?" He asks tenderly.

Dawson nods, she really is exhausted. Severide helps her to her feet and kisses her head, "Goodnight," he murmurs before retreating to his own bedroom, knowing that he'd left Dawson in the most capable hands.

Casey leads her into the bedroom they once shared, god, had 5 months passed already? Dawson notices how he's already put the lamp on and has set out some clothes of his for her to wear. She smiles at the gesture.

She sits down on the bed, sways a little, the alcohol still ever present in her system. She tries to reach down to take off her heeled boots, but she sways again. Bashfully she looks up at Casey, "Would you mind, you know?" but he's already on his knees helping to slip off her boots.

Then he helps take off her jeans and replaces them with his shorts. Dawson doesn't protest when Casey curls his fingers around the edge of her shirt as he looks at her for permission. He then helps her to dress in one of his shirts and god he's missed the sight. Then she does that awesome thing that all women do where they take their bras off without taking off their shirt.

Dawson can't help but laugh slightly at the look of bewilderment on Casey's face.

He then leans down and kisses her head, "Get some rest. I'll only be out there if you need me," he murmurs before turning to leave the bedroom, but the feel of her hand on his wrists brings him to a halt.

"Please don't go," she whispers.

He won't let her ask twice. Quickly Matt slips off his shoes and jeans and climbs in beside her.

They lay side by side, just a fraction of an inch separating their arms. He listens to her breaths and she's sure she can hear his heart beating.

"Matt?" She says into the darkness long after the lamp has been turned off.

"Yeah?" He hums.

"Thank you for being there tonight," Dawson murmurs as he feels her turn on her side to face him.

"It's just like Kelly said, you're not alone Gabby," Casey answers and he swears he hears her breath hitch, "And you shouldn't feel guilty about Shay dying, it wasn't your fault."

"It feels like it, sometimes."

Casey sighs, "Close your eyes for me," he instructs lightly and without protest, Gabby does so because she trusts him.

When Casey's sure that her eyes are closed he says, "Now picture Shay."

"Matt," Gabby whimpers.

"It's okay," he soothes as he takes her hand in his and clutches it to show that he's there.

"Can you see her?"

"Yes."

When Casey sits up on his elbow and cups her warm cheek with his hand he says, "Is she blaming you for her death? Is she telling you that it's your fault? Is she wishing that it was you instead of her?"

After a few silent moments Dawson murmurs, "No… she's smiling."

"Exactly," Casey smiles, "She's smiling because she loved you."

Finally Dawson opens her eyes and through the sliver of moonlight that peers through the curtains she sees Casey's loving blues stare down at her, "Now don't you understand? It's not your fault Shay died and she would never wish for it to have been you rather than her, because she loved you Gabby, she loved you because you were her best friend."

With his hand still on Dawson's cheek Casey can feel her smile even though he can't see it. Content with what they'd just achieved, he settles back into the sheets and finds that Dawson curls into his side, clutching his shirt in her palm.

Sleep quickly envelopes them in a blanket of peace that neither had experienced for months.

Casey falls asleep to the feel of Dawson's body in his arms, knowing that neither of them belonged anywhere except where they were right then.

Dawson falls asleep with Shay's smiling face in her mind and Dawson thinks, just for a fleeting moment before sleep comes, that Shay was talking to her; she was.

 _I'm smiling because I love you Dawson._


End file.
